


Dreams and Plans

by TurnipTitaness



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Men Crying, Moving In Together, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Plans For The Future, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnipTitaness/pseuds/TurnipTitaness
Summary: Aziraphale sees Crowley have a nightmare for the first time. They talk, and begin making plans for the future.1862 words.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 134





	Dreams and Plans

Aziraphale sipped his cocoa and turned a page in his book, savoring the silence in his bookshop.

Well, the near-silence. Crowley’s soft breathing added a soothing layer from where he sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. The angel glanced up at him, and his face softened into a small smile. They could meet openly now. No more busses, no more bandstands. No more park benches. Not unless they wanted to feed the ducks together in St. James Park, that is. He still couldn’t quite believe it. 

Crowley, on the other hand, seemed to have no difficulty in embracing their freedom with both long arms. He spent most of his time in the bookshop these days, fidgeting around the shelves or lurking in the corner, grinning disconcertingly at customers and chuckling softly at Aziraphale’s attempts to get rid of them. 

Aziraphale pretended to fuss over the demon’s behavior, but he secretly loved it, especially on nights like this, when Crowley stayed past closing time. He would make himself cocoa while Crowley watched, or pour them both a glass of wine. Then they would sit and talk, or simply enjoy the companionable silence together until Crowley either grew restless and went for a drive in his Bentley or fell asleep, as he had tonight.

He had never understood the demon’s fondness of the human habit of sleeping before, but now, as he studied Crowley’s face, he began to understand. The anxious lines in his forehead were smooth, his brows lifted slightly. The soft light from the lamp on the desk cast a warm glow on his face, and Aziraphale could almost see the angel he had once been. 

But then Crowley’s face tightened. Worried wrinkles appeared between his brows, and his lips pulled down at the corners as a small whimper escaped him. 

Aziraphale frowned and set down his book, smoothing his trousers across his thighs nervously. What was happening? Was there something he ought to do? 

“No, please!” The demon’s legs thrashed out, and then he pulled them up to his chest, his whole body tense and shaking. “Please,” he said once more, his voice small and broken. 

Without thinking, Aziraphale leapt out of his chair and knelt by the demon’s side. “Crowley! Crowley, my dear…” his face creased with misery.

Crowley’s hands scrabbled in the air until he found Aziraphale, taking big handfuls of his waistcoat. His eyes opened, wide and desperate and completely golden. “Angel! Angel, please, I’m falling, please! Save me, don’t let me fall.” He buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest. “Don’t let me fall.”

Aziraphale’s eyes welled up with tears, and he looked helplessly up at the ceiling. The demon’s body shuddered with sobs, and Aziraphale patted his shoulder, his heart aching. “I’m here, Crowley. I’m here.”

After a minute or two, he felt the trembling cease, the grip on his shirt slacken. Crowley pulled away from him slightly and looked up. “It’s already happened, hasn’t it?” he whispered. “I’ve already fallen.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, wishing he knew what to say in order to make Crowley feel better. There was a long silence between them. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. “That… that thing that happened,” he said hesitantly. “Which just took place. Was that a dream, like the ones humans have?”

Crowley grimaced. “Of a sort, yeah.”

“Well then why do you do it? Why do you sleep if your dreams are so awful?”

“For the moments when they’re not.” Crowley rolled onto his back with a deep sigh, his eyes dim and full of sadness. “For the moments when things… Well, when things are the way they used to be, before everything. Lucifer, and all that. And to drown out the way things are now.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. “But, but surely,” he stammered. “Surely things aren’t all that bad now. Not everything.”

“Not everything,” Crowley conceded, and the ghost of a smile flickered across his face, momentarily replacing his look of gloom. Only momentarily, however, and when the sadness returned, it was deeper than before. “Why did you speak to me, anyway, that day in the garden?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me to slither back where I came from?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “I’m… I’m not entirely sure,” he said finally. And then added, “Why did you speak to me?”

Crowley shrugged. “Just wanted someone to talk to. Bored, probably. Not big on casual conversation, most demons down there. Any of them, really.”

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “No, nor are the rest of the angels.” He let out a tiny giggle. “I don’t think either of us were entirely suited to our jobs, on the whole.”

“Ngh.” A crooked grin grew on Crowley’s face, and he slid his eyes around to Aziraphale again. “Probably for the best that we’re both retired now.”

“Probably.” Aziraphale glanced around the shop. “Well, retired from one profession, at least.” There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice, and Crowley looked at him sharply.

“I thought you liked the bookshop?”

“Oh, I do,” Aziraphale said. “Well, that is, mostly. I like… well, the books. And… and…” He cast about him, trying to think of another aspect of the business he enjoyed. 

“But you could have books without keeping a bookshop, you know,” Crowley pointed out. He swung himself upright, propping his elbows on his knees.

“I… I suppose so,” Aziraphale said, getting up from the floor and sitting down on the sofa beside Crowley, his hands clasped in his lap. “But it always seemed rather selfish. And some of the books are rather… well, that is, Oscar Wilde, and such. Heaven would hardly approve of me having so many worldly possessions.”

“Pff.” Crowley flapped his hand dismissively. “To Hell with all that. They’ll all leave us alone now, angel. We can do whatever we want.”

“That’s true.” Aziraphale’s eyes began to shine. He wiggled around to face Crowley. “You know, there is one thing I’ve been thinking of, that I believe I would like very much. I started thinking about it after we visited Tadfield that day.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Visited. Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it.”

“But the countryside was so lovely and peaceful, didn’t you think?”

“Mpfh. Can’t say I noticed, particularly. I was a bit distracted on my way there.”

“Well, it was,” Aziraphale persisted. “Very lovely. And I couldn’t help thinking it might be nice to have a place in the country. The South Downs, perhaps.”

Crowley’s eyes suddenly dropped to the floor, and he began picking at the cuff of his jacket. “Hnnnn,” he muttered. “No, right, yes, of course. If you think that’s what would make you happy. And… and I could always pop down in the Bentley occasionally.”

Aziraphale tried to swallow his disappointment at Crowley’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Of course, it was probably a silly idea,” he said, with an attempt at a smile. “I’m sure you wouldn’t like to be so far from the metropolis. I just thought…”

Crowley’s head snapped up and he stared at Aziraphale. “Me!” he said explosively. “You want me to come too?”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to stare. “Well, yes. Of course. Good Heavens, Crowley, I didn’t stop Armageddon just to go on not seeing you. I thought that was the whole point?”

Crowley blinked. “I thought it was all about sushi restaurants and opening nights in the West End.”

“Oh, of course, I still enjoy those things,” Aziraphale admitted. “And I wouldn’t want to give them up. Not completely. That’s why I thought it would be convenient if we kept your flat. Only I thought those beautiful plants of yours might be so much happier in the country.” 

Aziraphale wondered, briefly, why Crowley looked away guiltily at the mention of his plants being happy, but decided not to pursue it. “But if you’d rather not, then naturally—”

“Rather not?” Crowley cut him off again. “Rather not? Six thousand years, Aziraphale. Six thousand years, and you think I’d rather not find a house and settle down with you, just the two of us, with no one else barging in and ruining our peace?” 

He jumped up and started pacing the room. “South Downs, you said? What time is it? Too late to get an estate agent on the phone?” He stopped pacing and whirled around to face Aziraphale. “Or am I going too fast for you?

Suddenly, Aziraphale felt as light and buoyant as a balloon. Too fast? Why, there was no such thing as too fast for him now. Neither of them had anything to fear. His cheeks turned pink and he laughed. “Crowley, my dear, you aren’t going to fast. You are, however, being ridiculous. Do sit back down. Of course it’s too late to telephone an estate agent. We can do that in the morning.”

Relief suffused Crowley’s face, and he smiled as he plopped back down next to Aziraphale. “Right, yeah. There’s always the morning. We’ll have lots of mornings, now.”

They sat next to each other for a few minutes, simply smiling and marveling over the thought of all the mornings they would have to share. But then Crowley began to fidget and look worried again. “But, you know, Aziraphale,” he began. “They might not leave us alone forever. Time can breed confidence. If they do come after us again, are you sure you want to be seen… what was your word? Fraternizing? Are you sure you want to be seen openly fraternizing with a demon? Beyond the purpose of saving the world, I mean?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “As you so eloquently said, Crowley, to Hell with all that. We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.” He glanced sideways at Crowley to see how he would take this bold statement, and was gratified when the demon threw back his head and laughed. 

“That’s the spirit,” Crowley said, but he sobered almost immediately, and Aziraphale could tell there was still something on his mind. He sat still, looking at his friend expectantly. 

After a while, Crowley looked over at him again. “What about God, though?” he asked, and Aziraphale knew from his tone that this was the real crux of the issue for him. “What do you think they’ll think of all this? I’m willing to believe they didn’t mind Armageddon being stopped, but you and me? I don’t want you to fall too, Aziraphale.”

The angel’s face melted into a tender smile. “Oh, Crowley,” he said. “Her plans are ineffable, remember? We can’t know whether she will mind or not. And besides, I don’t think God disapproves of you nearly as much as you think she does. She sees everything, doesn’t she? She must be able to see what I do.”

Crowley frowned down at the floor. “And what might that be?” he asked, his voice sharp with sarcasm that Aziraphale realized was hiding the fact that he knew what the angel was about to say, but wanted to hear it again.

“That you are a good person, my dear.”

Crowley looked up at him, unable to keep a huge smile from spreading over his face. “Bastard.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this! I'm very new here, and this is my first time posting, so sorry if I did anything wrong. 
> 
> I love hearing comments, so feel free to say whatever.


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